


Rinse and Repeat

by roundandtalented



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Post Friendsim, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundandtalented/pseuds/roundandtalented
Summary: It's turned into kind of a game that started as a really poor attempt at flirting. The first time you teased her about wanting to wash the grime of you herself, she fucking surprised you with a hose out back the local gamestop.It obviously didn't work, but you're sure she got some sort of satisfaction out of it at least. Marsti wouldn't have invited you over to her place if she didn't at least tolerate you, you'd assumed. And she sure did that. More than once even.





	Rinse and Repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HRKinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HRKinkmeme) collection. 



> If you haven’t checked out **[Aysha’s FolSti drabble](https://ayshaufarah.tumblr.com/post/186457314510/ko-fi-drabble-folsti)** yet, you should go give that a read first ;)

It's turned into kind of a game that started as a really poor attempt at flirting. The first time you teased her about wanting to wash the grime of you herself, she fucking surprised you with a hose out back the local gamestop.

It obviously didn't work, but you're sure she got some sort of satisfaction out of it at least. Marsti wouldn't have invited you over to her place if she didn't at least tolerate you, you'd assumed. And she sure did that. More than once even.

The first time, you'd been pretty sure it was supposed to be a date, so you'd maybe put on clothes that weren't full of holes. The girl likes cleaning, but she's gotta have limits, right? Yeah, well, she'd liked cleaning so much she'd put you right in the ablution trap. You knew you were filthy, but again, it's kind of a game to be so nasty and have her want to scrub you clean.

After the first time went so well, you absolutely had to keep it up. Maybe not to the same extent of filth- it didn't work as insulation, she was right. But also... you were a little scared she wouldn't have you back if you were already clean. That, and it takes for fucking ever for all your hair to dry, so you're really not a fan of bathing without some sort of reward for doing so.

It's not like Kuprum rinses his nasty ass more than once a week, and he's still tolerable, so the same could go for you as far as you're concerned. And again, having Marsti wash your hair is always better. Even if it took a lot of prep work on your end to be able to be out of you and Kuprum's disaster hive for more than like, six hours.

This time you packed snacks at least.

You stand out front Marsti's hive, flipping off her neighbor with one hand and fidgeting with the battery pack in your pocket with the other. It won't give you much of a charge, but enough of a boost that you could probably get home if you end up being dangerously low. You'll look like an idiot, holding a battery to your tongue the whole walk home, but at least you'll be walking. And that's only _if_ you have to use them.

Oh, and speaking of snacks…

"Making this a weekly thing, huh?"

Marsti’s voice might sound annoyed, but you know better. She'd have spritzed you with a spray bottle if she'd have actually wanted you off her porch.

"Call it progress." You can feel the tiny little upturn at the corner of her mouth and it instantly validates you spending all that time fused to Kuprum's back like a sad frizzy cape, just so you could stand out front Marsti's hive.

"I suppose."  
She holds the door open for you. There's quite the height difference between you, and you can comfortably scoot under her arm and into the living room of her hive. No lusus waiting to inspect you today, thank fuck. Yeah, you've got plans and it'd be awkward as fuck to have to say hi to her lusus first.

Marsti clicks the door shut behind the two of you, and pauses. You can feel the way her eyes lock on your bare feet as if her gaze burns.

"Where are your shoes?"

"Shoes are bullshit." You don't really have an easier way to say that you don't like wearing them. That, and your pride doesn't want to let her know you only have one pair. You and Kuprum are still lowbloods after all, and you'd rather spend your allowance on good food than on new shoes.

"Well don't go wandering then." Her nose scrunches up and you snicker.

"As if you'd want me to go anywhere but your abultionblock." You try to wink, but honestly you have no idea whether or not you're successful. You probably aren't.

Marsti sighs, arms crossed over her chest but not sounding too bothered by your sass. Actually, you might be able to find a bit of fondness in that sigh.

"Rinse and repeat. Go wash up."

You try not to run for her trap, but the slapping of your bare feet on the tile give away your excitement. She's not far behind you, shedding her jumpsuit at least to her hips, goggles off her head and instead hanging around her neck.

"Do you not have a trap of your own?" She asks, a bit teasingly. Well, you can't blame her for guessing that- you've bathed every time you've been in her hive.

"Yours is just better." You pause, top already over your head, wondering if it's still smooth to slip some genuine feelings into your flirting.  
Eh, fuck it. You fling your hoodie to the floor, pocket batteries clicking against the tile.

"You come with it."

Marsti rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest. She shuffles your clothes into a pile next to the ablution trap, cranking it on and then just eyeing you as you stand there shivering. The dirt might not be good insulation, but fuck if the big hoodie and track pants don't keep you nice and warm! Your hair is a big greasy blanket at your back, but it stops halfway down your ass, and does nothing to warm your front half. You've thought about lopping it off, like the gorgeous girl in the ablution block with you, but until recently you were positive it played a role in keeping your energy longer. Now you're not so sure its worth it just for a little extra warmth.

Marsti tests the water for you, giving a little splash in the tub. She likes to sit on the edge of the trap- she has every time you've done this. She's almost your height, just sitting there, and you'd complain if that didn't make you perfect rumblesphere height on her.  
Not that you've gotten so much as a hug out of her yet- being a walking energy drain tends to keep trolls at an arms length.  
If she's washed your hair just fine, she should be okay to touch you normally, right? Just probably not for very long.

"Warm enough." She says, patient as you skeptically dip a foot in. She's right, it is.  
Marsti watches you sit down, water still running as you do so. You kind of make her trap look huge with how short your legs are compared to hers. There's lots of things being stunted comes in handy for- like riding around on your moirails shoulders. Hiding behind just about anything. Fitting conveniently into overhead compartments or whatever. Compact for convenience.

What it probably doesn't do, is make you look terribly threatening, and thus, probably not very hot. Especially not sitting all soggy and sad in some rusty's tub looking like something the meowbeast dragged in.  
Ugh.

"What's with the grumpy face?"

Marsti cuts through your self doubt, her eyebrows raised in a way you've not caught much of. Has she been doing that the other nights too and you’ve just not noticed? Or is it a recent thing she’s started as you get to know each other? Either way, it's unbearably cute, and you're mad that it'd be weird to tell her you think so.

"I'm always grumpy." You say instead, like a fucking liar. You're usually irritated, sure, but that's what happens when you're low key suffering every day.

"True."  
She shrugs, turning off the faucet and retrieving the pitcher she uses to help wash your hair from under the sink next to the trap. It's kind of a small ablution block, but hey, lowblood life be like that.  
"But I don't know if you're just thinking too hard, or actually upset. Not that i'm about to pile with you."

She scoops up some water and gently pours it over your hair. It takes a couple pitcherfuls to fully wet it all.

You want to say you've just got her on your mind, but instead what comes out is:  
"How do you know I don't just have to shit?"

Oh god, oh fuck! That was absolutely a Kuprum influenced response- something one of the two of you would say for absolute shock value to some normie out front a mall. Not something you intended to say to a girl you're trying to bump bulges with!!

Your face must convey the absolute disgust with yourself you feel the second you stop speaking, because she's deadpan for only a moment before she laughs. Honest to fuck, just laughs at you.  
It's not something strained either- not mocking or uncomfortable. She's genuinely entertained, if caught off guard, and it's beautiful.

Shit, that was one whole feeling out of you. Maybe the voidrot isn't killing your whole soul after all?

You snicker, but lean into her hand when she starts to work shampoo into your hair. This part you've done before. She has you wash the rest of yourself while she deals with the mess that is your crazy hair. Her hands are gentle but firm, making sure there's a thick lather of bubbles all over your head and down your back. When she picks up the back, the bubbles end up on her arms, running down back towards her body and getting her tank top damp down the sides.  
It's not like you have eyes, so she can't catch you just _knowing_ or some shit, but you sure are aware it's happening, however the fuck that works.

Your rattley little purr starts up in your chest and you wrap your arms around yourself, annoyed at the dead giveaway that you're enjoying yourself. You have an _image_ to maintain after all! There's bubbles running down your shoulders, over your rumblespheres that you’re desperately trying to sink into the water as if that'll quiet you.

Marsti smirks, just for a moment, clearly smug but not calling you out on all the racket. Instead she wipes some shampoo off your forehead, away from where your eyes would be. It's terribly sweet that she keeps it away- you're not sure the pits would burn the way Kuprum complains shampoo burns his eyes. You don't care to find out.  
That gesture alone softens you up enough that you end up leaning against her side of the tub, done washing yourself but enjoying her fussing over your hair still. You're all loose limbed and comfortable, so of course something stupid has to come out of the third useless gaping hole in your face.

"So what's it gunna take," You freeze as she scoops up a pitcher of bath water, pusher hammering in your chest. "To get you in here with me?"

Marsti tries to look unphased, you can tell in the moment that she goes a little stiff. You can't see her blush, not really, but there's a touch of heat in her cheeks that feels a bit like victory.

And then she upends the pitcher over your head.

You sputter and splash a little, but a second pitcher of water dumps on you, washing away the rest of the shampoo. Parting your curtain of hair where your bangs should be, you squint up at Marsti who's left the side of the tub.

Was that too far? Did you cross a line you can’t fucking see?

Obviously not, because of all things, the next noise you hear is the wet slap of her tank top hitting the tile.

Oh _fuck_ yes.

There's tiny shorts under the jumpsuit. You're somehow elated by this discovery as you hang over the tub side like some sort of thirsty swamp creature. Tiny little nylon shorts that maybe come to about her mid thigh. They're there and then they're on the tile in a heap too. It’s the jumpsuit she actually takes the time to fold, topping it with the goggles from around her neck.

You flick water at her perfect long legs as she steps in the tub, and she doesn't even flinch. The pitcher is just floating next to you in the water, and you're all at once aware that this tub bottom is not really large enough for the both of you to lay down in. You, sure, but Marsti is all long legs and a properly shaped torso.

You lean forward and snag the shower curtain, and she seems to come to the same conclusion. A bath might not work, but a shower will.

When Marsti bends down to pull up the button on the faucet, her face comes close to yours, close enough you could catch her, kiss her if you wanted.

Your hand hangs there, right by her cheek and she watches you, waits for you. You're nervous to initiate because what if it's _you_ doing the touching that starts the drain too strong? What if you're reading this wrong and she just wants to look after you, not make out in while naked in her ablution trap.

She quirks an eyebrow at you, like she's goading you into it, as if to say 'yes? I'm waiting?'. And fuck no, you don't back down from challenges.

Marsti plucks up the button, twists the knob as hot as it will go, and you kiss her.

Her hair is so soft, even once it's wet from the shower head. You get to your knees and follow her up, kissing her like she's the only way you can breathe.

She pulls you back and that fear grips you again, a little hint of self hatred bubbles in your pudgy stomach- and then nope, she's back to return your kiss. Measured and precise, like she's got everything all together. Like no part of her is the overeager disaster that you are.

She doesn't have to verbally tell you to slow down, you can take a cue. Maybe. You're pretty sure you can, because she actually _makes_ you slow down by pulling back, getting her hands in your hair to match your fingers in hers, even if she's got nearly a foot in height on you.  
She doesn't seem like she's suffering a hard drain either, by the way she slips her tongue in your mouth. 

She's braver than any Alternian soldier with how scary your mouth is. She's not afraid of you, though. Not of your voidrot, and not of your typical goldblood teeth.

Marsti moves one of her hands down, over your shoulder, pushing your soggy hair back, and then around to your chest. Your rumble spheres are maybe half the size of hers, not that hers are even close to a colder caste's, and her hand covers one entirely.  
It's just your tit, it's not like it's anything special, but the way she holds it has you on fucking fire. 

You suck in a raspy breath of air as she swipes a finger tip over your nipple- what the fuck. What the fuck! You've laid chest-to-back, bare assed naked on Kuprum dozens of times and never felt anything like that? Is it because she's warmer? Or just because you're undeniably turned on by this tall, hot snack who's keen to make out with you in her shower?

Yeah, that last option sounds about right. Marsti repeats the motion and this time you trill, calling her back for another scorching kiss.

You get one of your hands on her spheres to match, but she doesn't have nearly the reactions you do. _Eh_ , you're not really a boob kinda girl anyways, so you go for her ass instead.  
The little pleased huff your hand on her rump gets you tells you this was a good move. A little squeeze-squeeze and she presses up against you, almost pinning you to the shower wall. Is it pinning if you kind of pulled her there by her choice rump?  
She moves back, just a step, and her hand slides lower, fingers still combing through your long, inky black hair.

"All I had to do was ask, huh?" Your voice sounds raw, like somehow her kissing you took more energy out of you than a poor rustblood.

She smirks, fingers trailing lower, over the little bit of softness at your middle. What can you say, you like garbage food? It sits at your hips and middle, but she doesn't fuss over your softness. Nah, she's seen that all the last few times she washed your hair. Instead she dips lower, and it's your bulges that greet her rather than the other way around.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and you don't stop yourself from snickering. Aw, did the rustie not know what she was getting into with a goldblood? Well she knows now, and judging by the warm hand your bulges are twisting around, she's not afraid of _this_ development either.

"Is that how it works with your quadrants too?" You give her ass one last squeeze before you move your hand, petting at her hip, her thigh- god she's so warm and gorgeous. Anyone with half a pan knows, no voidrot bullshit required.  
"I just gotta ask?"

She rests her forehead against yours ever so briefly, brushes your noses together.  
"Why don't you ask and find out?"

Your hand stills at the curve of her hip, trying not to hesitate and failing. You slow your breathing best you can while your bulges squeeze around her fingers. You’re determined to get the question out now that you've gotten this far.  
"Can I have you red?"

She pulls her face a fraction away from yours, just enough that there's not direct connection there.

"I'm maroon, actually."

Holy shit, did she just make a joke? With your bulges literally in her hand? She's smirking, so the shock must be clear on your face. What a brat! And that's really something, coming from you.

"Flush," You follow up, then realize you're _in her ablution block_ , that sets her up for another joke and _no_ you're not having her steal your thunder like that! "Hearts! I want you hearts, fuck!"

There's heat at your wrist and you look down. Well, you at least do the motion. And that sure _is_ her bulge wrapping around your hand, curving into your palm.  
"Oh," You say, like a fucking idiot.

"Yeah." She kisses your cheek, breathing out a sigh as she rolls her hips forward, pushing her maroon bulge into your hold. Her hair is plastered down around her ears and face, giving her bangs you didn't know she had. You're mesmerized for a moment before it clicks.

"Wait is that a yes?"

"Yes." She laughs, this time quieter, softer than before. Guilt eats at you, worry that it's your fault, that you're slowly sapping her energy even though you tried so so hard to make sure you'd be fully stocked for the evening.

"Can you feel the voidrot?" You ask, and her hand squeezes at your bulge bases, finger slipping between the two. You pant out a needy sound, fingers tight in her hair for a moment as you try to compose yourself. Her other hand isn't in your hair anymore, it's on your thigh, and you're very aware of how empty your nook is when her fingers are _right there_.

"I'll tell you if you're too much." Marsti assures you, nosing at your soggy temple, catching you for another brief kiss. But that wasn't what you asked. She can obviously feel it, but is it the bubbling oozing pit it feels like in you? The all consuming hunger for energy?

"Does it hurt?" You ask instead, because it's ok if _you_ hurt, but not her.

"No," Her fingertips skate around your nook and you chew your lip, canting yourself towards her, until she takes the hint and rubs two digits right over the slit of you.  
"It's like a pull." those two, warm, perfect fingers slide back and forth over your seam, slick between your thighs and you know you're making a noise but it's not one you've made before, you don’t think.

"I can feel it stop and start when I touch you," She supplies, and sinks her fingers into you, like it's just so easy for her. How is she holding together when you feel like you're coming apart?  
You hold tight to her hip as you stroke her bulge, sloppy and a bit haphazard, but who can blame you? Marsti has your bulges in her one hand, and her other is busy curling inside your nook, stroking you in a way that drags pleased little chirps from your throat, raspy gasps as she works her two fingers deeper.

You end up using two hands with her bulge, even if it's less sexy than holding onto the rest of her. You've sat through enough porn to know you're lacking on the romantic end here, but it's getting the job done. Not that Marsti's giving you much in the way of vocal cues- she's pretty fucking quiet in comparison to how noisy you are. You probably should have assumed that’d be the case.  
Her face is at least expressive- as much as you can tell anyways. Her eyebrows are pinched together, her mouth open just a little, but here eyes are shut ever so gently.  
You're struck again by how overwhelmingly gorgeous she is, and no one would probably guess that under a jumpsuit and goggles.

She purrs a low, barely there rumble as you work her bulge towards you, letting it curl around your fingers as you tug gently, coaxing her bulge to hold you tighter, squeeze your digits like your nook is squeezing around hers. Marsti noses at your bangs, close but not quite resting against you, not too much contact. Just about all the two of you can safely handle, probably. You're not keen to test it on your first round with her- you don't want to take the risk.

The only real tell that she's getting close is the distracted way she teases your bulges, not nearly as coordinated as she was before. You work your hands faster, the one at the base of her slipping back, teasing her nook but not daring to dip in. You don't need to, because a moment later her breath gets heavy, hips twitching towards you as her bulge holds your fingers and then squeezes.

Warm, dark rust- maroon, she said- coats your fingers and you grin, panting noisily, open mouthed and needy as your nook reacts to your success. You don't quite remove your hands, not yet, but after only a moment of catching her breath her fingers speed up in your nook. The simple steady curl gets an extra little twist, faster and more determined. You try and shift, spread your legs a further to give her more access and every bit that you give she takes, until you're leaned against the cool shower wall and need to hold onto her- like actually hold onto her or you'll slip.

Your hands catch her hips and your moan comes out muted by the smallness of her ablution trap and the steady spray from the shower head. Marsti can hear you, but maybe her lusus somewhere else in the hive can't. Fuck, you hope not.

She kisses you, hurried and intense as her fingers fuck you til you seize, moaning into her mouth and bitten blunt claws bite at her perfect hips. You spill over the two of you, onto both her hands and your thighs and the shivers that follow are new. This is all pretty new and you _like it_.

For a split second you feel truly alive. And then it fades.

You slide down the plastic side of the shower, chest heaving for air as she withdraws her fingers from your nook. They're coated in your gold and in your haze you can tell Marsti washes her hand before she joins you on the trap floor. She's smiling, eyes half lidded as she watches you, reaches out to push your bangs away from your face fondly. Her hand flops down onto the side of the tub, knocking the shower curtain aside with much less shits than she'd usually give in your humble opinion.

She seems exhausted. Not as exhausted as you _feel_ , but tired enough for you to be a little concerned, though you won't voice it. You've done enough _voicing_ for the whole week.

"I need a fucking nap." You admit, disappointed in yourself. The pitcher is still in the trap with you and it’s handle is now digging into your side. It’s too much effort to move it. 

You can't nap here, you can't really recharge here. The snacks in your hoodie will boost you enough to get back hive, but not long enough to nap. And if you crawled in coon with Marsti, you might kill her. 

Dead girlfriends aren't ideal, so no post-handy cuddles. Sucks to suck. 

"I gotta go hive." Your shoulders sag as you say it, and yeah, you feel how disappointed she is too. You don't blame her- no, this is all you and your shitty body. 

"Kuprum?" 

Ugh, you're so mad at yourself, you wish you could crawl over to her, maybe rest your cheek on her shoulder. But no, you'd need Kuprum here to do that, just to be sure you didn't siphon the life right out of her. 

"Yeah. He can boost me." 

There's been a lot of times in your awful excuse for a life that you've hated your voidrot. Cursed whatever forces that be for your terrible luck and terrible odds. But this time it's just fucking sad and lonely. Even if she's right there and was just knuckle deep in your nook, it's fucking lonely not being able to have her hold you or some sappy shit like that.  
Not that you'd admit out loud to ever having like, a single feeling. Fuck no. Feelings? Don't know her. 

You're both just, naked and wet under the spray of the shower. It's not warm at all anymore, but the two of you had gotten so hot and bothered it sobers you up more than anything. You're not sure how long the two of you just sit there, you moping and her pleasantly dazed. 

"I suppose I can't convince you to stay long enough for your hair to dry?" 

You purse your lips, not wanting to tell her you have to go, when obviously you want to stay. 

"I've got a hair drier," she offers with a light shrug. You do perk up at that, sitting up a little straighter and your ass no longer blocking the drain as much. 

Your mixed slurry and the water gurgles down the hole under you, and you nod. A hairdrier cuts your massive mop's dry-time down to about twenty minutes, and that's something you think you can survive. 

She eventually turns the shower off, and when you almost eat shit trying to get out of the trap, you agree to let her haul you up as quick as she can. Your fucking walkstumps don't want to work right, and you're not sure if the dizziness is something you can expect after every solid fuck you have- it's certainly not an issue when solo, so, another new thing experienced for the night. 

Marsti gets you wrapped in a towel on her ugly ass couch, but not before you scoop a battery from your previously discarded clothes. You toy with it in your hands the whole time she dries your hair, slowly taking in a bit of charge while you enjoy her attention once again being solely on you. She's still not put her clothes back on, and while you can't see it per say, you do know the way she folds her legs under her on the cushions is oddly cute. Like her cat lusus when she loafs. 

And there's just something terribly intimate about the way she brushes your hair as she dries it, knowing it's only going to get frizzy in an hour or so. She can't hold you right now, but she holds your hair and makes sure not to tug too hard when she catches a knot. She was the last person to brush it, too. Last week, with a big comb while you sat in her tub. She'd been wearing too much clothes, and you'd maybe flicked water at her to see if she'd remove her shirt. She hadn't that time, but your patience for this week's visit seems to have paid off at least. 

In a few more minutes you've never been so disappointed to be dry. Once your hair is all tamed (for now), Marsti retrieves your pile of clothes from the bathroom floor. She returns to you in only her shorts and tank top, and you try not to stare too much. Again, you don't have eyes, so she probably can't tell, but for once in your life you maybe ought to be polite to a pretty girl.  
Until she dumps your clothes in your lap- then you grumble and begrudgingly put them back on instead of thanking her. 

Neither of you say a word as you head for the door, kind of just awkwardly standing there before you open it for yourself and shuffle out. You curl your toes on her porch, itching to say something. Do something. 

Do you thank her? Do you kiss her goodbye? That's what trolls in this quadrant do, right? You're too used to just slapping Kuprum's ass or calling him a fart huffer. This redrom shit is uncharted territory for you.  
You look at her, and she stares down at you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised like she's waiting for you to do something. Fuck, shit, you're totally dropping the ball on this! Again! 

"Uhh...." You shift your weight from one foot to the other and it earns you a little smirk. NO! Fuck her smugness- "Same time next week?" 

Marsti nods, seeming satisfied with your question. With you, even, as she uncrosses her arms and relaxes a little. 

"I look forward to it." 

She catches your cheek and tilts your chin up, just so she can dip down and place a chaste little kiss on your forehead. Her thumb pets your jawline, fond and soft, and then as quick as she initiated it, she's gone. 

The door clicks closed in front of you, leaving you no where to go but out to the street. There's a moment where you have to touch your face, your forehead, just to make sure the exchange really happened. 

Does she have a death wish? Or does she just genuinely enjoy you enough to risk it? The fact that you're leaning towards the second option has you over the fucking moons.  
You keep one of your pocket batteries pressed to the tip of your tongue the whole way hive and don't spare a glance to any of the local rusties giving you looks. 


End file.
